


Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (Thus Passes the Glory of the World)

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Multi, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With great desperation, Bella crushes her lips to Rodolphus': the ferocity of her desire splits the skin – the bitterness of the blood is intoxicating and, soon, Bella's hands are roving over what seems like every inch of Rodolphus' body; as though she cannot possibly find enough of him to grab and to hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (Thus Passes the Glory of the World)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Death Eater Fest 2010.

_1970_

She runs.

"Quickly!" Bella calls, urging Rodolphus to pick up the pace as they flee the scene. She glances hurriedly over her shoulder, and through the condensation of her own panting breaths, the midnight mist, and the flurry of robes she can see him.

Satisfied that Rodolphus will follow, Bella speeds up. Her bright eyes, wide and glittering with the light of the moon, and the shimmer of tears as she ploughs on into the cold air, she spies a corner - an alley.

_That'll do_.

She meets the corner at full speed, her feet skidding awkwardly on the wet pavement and into the darkness; lost among the shadows.

"That was amazing!" she gasps as Rodolphus rounds the corner and stumbles into her, coming to a halt. "_You_ were amazing," Bella says. Grasping fistfuls of Rodolphus' robes she pulls him to her.

With great desperation, Bella crushes her lips to Rodolphus': the ferocity of her desire splits the skin – his, or hers, or both, she's not sure, but the unmitigating bitterness of the blood is intoxicating and, soon, Bella's hands are roving over what seems like every inch of Rodolphus' body; as though she cannot possibly find enough of him to grab and to hold.

Soon: Rodolphus is easing Bella's legs apart with his knee as she grinds against him.

Soon: her knickers are moist and her cunt is aching as she squirms and writhes and gasps for the heady feel of his cock inside her.

Soon: he is fucking her up against the dirt and grit of a filthy brick wall; fucking through her; and Bella is clinging to him, wrapping her thighs around him and drawing him deeper and deeper like she'll never be full.

She'll never be full.

*

 

_1979_

 

"Good lad," Rodolphus says, with a fatherly squeeze of Barty's shoulder. "Good lad." He releases his grip on Barty and steps around him, joining his wife beside the body.

He nudges it with the toe of his boot, lifting the limp muscle and shattered bone from the pavement for a moment, before allowing it to drop once more in what will be its resting place.

"Barty," Bella calls out suddenly, the command in her voice crashing through the fog of distorted silence that surrounds Barty. "Come here."

Barty swallows. He clenches his fist. His wand is cold and stiff and has never felt so foreign in the palm of his own hand.

He cannot quite believe that he has done it.

"Barty," Bella persists. It is still a demand, and not a request, but there is a gentler quality to it now and Barty dares not disobey. He approaches.

"Good boy," Bella whispers, embracing him. As she does, she runs her tongue lasciviously along his jaw. He jerks away, taken aback by the gesture. His eyes, always so lively, scatter and shift: he looks from Bella to Rodolphus and back to Bella again.

She looks past Barty to Rodolphus, and back to Barty: into his eyes.

She sees it there: the fear and the power; life and death in the palm of one's hand.

She feels it: trembling against her; in stilted breaths and sweat that trickles along the bridge of his nose.

Bella recognises it, because it is that same rush she felt that first time with Rodolphus.

And as she recognises – as she remembers – the flicker of a smile flashes across her face.

She smirks.

She slips a hand between her and Barty: running the palm hard and flat over his chest and belly she reaches between his legs. Bella teases Barty through his trousers. He looks frantically over his shoulder at Rodolphus: he is gazing intently at Bella – they are gazing intently at one another – and he is stroking himself as he watches his wife loose Barty's robes; release his cock from his pants, and fall to her knees before him.

*

 

_1997_

 

She used to keep track; a tally. Notches on a bed post. Or a wand. Or etched into the skin. But she lost count long ago.

(So long ago).

And now –

And now she has not even that: the tally, the number, nor the notches.

Nothing.

Only this: the belief.

The gaping maw of a hollow conviction: an endless pit of shadows inside of her; curses and cries and fighting and fucking and nothing.

(She'll never be full).

"Now," Bella hisses through gritted teeth as she motions for Rabastan to join them. Apprehension plays momentarily across his face as he watches his brother fucking his wife; as she lowers herself onto his cock; as he plunges into her.

_"Now."_

Rabastan nods. He positions himself behind Bella, above Rodolphus. Bella slows to a stop. Rabastan eases her open and slides, slowly, into her from behind. Bella winces, but even as she does so she rocks back against his cock, needing to feel all of him inside of her.

From beneath Bella, Rodolphus resumes his thrusting: he grips his wife's hips, clawing desperately at her flesh, his nails grazing her skin, weathered where it was once supple and tender and new. Rabastan's movements, too, accelerate and, soon, the brothers Lestrange are driving hard into Bella and she is moaning and writhing and needing more and less and for it to stop and not stop never stop and to fill her whole again whole again whole again to put the pieces of herself back together again whole whole whole –

It is a blur; a mess. It is the sound of sweat and skin and saliva dangling from lips and pain that is pleasure that is pain and, as Rodolphus comes, a bestial moan tearing through the sex-soaked atmosphere, Bella nods. In a show of understanding, Rodolphus' fingers scramble for purchase around Bella's neck. Even as the last throes of his orgasm radiate through him, he closes his palms around that part of her; the pressure of his grip stifling each breath and in that moment she thinks she can see it yes yes yes there it is she can touch it she can get it back the missing parts of herself shed all those years ago on that first night yes yes yes so close _so close_ -

And with a great, heaving shudder, Bella throws her head back; she reaches out for something that is not there; that never will be there; she cries out.

She runs.


End file.
